


Beautiful Lies

by MarieAnne_Cormier



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: And why I avoid that kind of thing, Angst, Do NOT read if you're in a bad headspace, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, I'm very serious, Not for the fainthearted or for those suffering from depression, This is what happens when I'm Sad, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 10:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17527325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieAnne_Cormier/pseuds/MarieAnne_Cormier
Summary: The end is an inevitability, but fate is sometimes far crueller than anyone could ever imagine. Sylvanas is much too familiar with the concept, but that doesn't mean it doesn't destroy her every time it happens.





	Beautiful Lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raffinit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/gifts), [Slackergami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slackergami/gifts).



> You wanted Pain and Sads? This is the result of that. I hope you're happy.

_“My love, please. Please. Hold on.”_

Azshara’s might was simply too much. The champions of Azeroth had achieved the impossible before many times, their latest major victory having been the defeat of the corrupted Titan Sargeras himself. But they had been united at that point, not tearing each other apart at the seams. 

The faction war had weakened both sides too much, and the conflict had escalated to the point that neither one of them was in a position to rebuff Azshara and her Naga, especially not when they had N’Zoth’s power backing them. She had grown tired of waiting for her turn, and thus Azshara had made her grand re-entrance into Azeroth from below the depths of the ocean, determined to deal the final blow against the fools that inhabited her world.

The strike that fell on the already-bleeding Horde and Alliance like a hammer had been far too strong to withstand. Theirs had been a losing battle from the very beginning. Foolish hope had kept their swords in their hands and their shields at the ready far longer than reason would have advised. Naivety had led them to stand and fight against the power of a woman that had bided her time far too patiently to be thwarted by a last-minute, puny team-up. They had never stood a chance.

Still they had fought on. Stubbornness, fear, hope, despair, pride. A myriad of reasons for fatigued arms to continue swinging, for exhausted legs to continue marching forth, for battle cries to ring forth from defiant throats as the men and women of Azeroth once again faced off against an enemy far stronger than they could imagine.

Only this time, there would be no victory to be had at the end. No light at the end of the tunnel. No celebrations or banquets, no tearful reunions between the champions of Azeroth and the families that awaited back home for their loved ones to return from another war against wondrous and terrible powers that threatened to tear everything they knew asunder.

This time, the morning sky would be coloured red, a reflection of the ground below that was soaked with the blood of countless heroes. All of them either dead or dying, left to lament not having been strong enough to push back this new threat against their world. 

Crushing regret would be their swan song at dawn, the greeting they would receive at death’s door.

Crushing regret was the only thing coursing through Sylvanas Windrunner at the moment. 

For all her preparations, all of her scouting and intelligence-gathering, all of her efforts into attempting to gain _some_ insight into the Naga Queen’s plans, she couldn’t have anticipated that this would be the result awaiting them, _her_ , at the end of it all. They had finally managed to achieve a tentative peace, after reports on both sides had been far too insistent that total annihilation awaited them all were they to continue the war. A truce cemented by a few key political marriages as insurance…including hers to one Jaina Proudmoore. 

Sylvanas hadn’t expected to fall in love with her new wife. She hadn’t expected to enjoy the sound of the mage’s laughter, the twinkle she got in her eyes whenever she was feeling mischievous, the small twitch of lips that inevitably gave her away whenever she was trying to play innocent. She hadn’t expected to love seeing Jaina excitedly ramble about arcane things, to enjoy the way her strong spirit shone brightly whenever she was angry, to delight in how passionate the other woman was whenever she argued with someone. Sylvanas hadn’t expected for their life together to be _happy,_ believing that they would manage to barely tolerate one another at best and barely restrain themselves from killing one another if only so that they would not plunge Azeroth back into war again at worst. 

As always, fate had made it its mission to prove her wrong. But also as always, just when Sylvanas thought she was allowed a small sliver of contentment, a place where she belonged, a small slice of _normality,_ fate had decided to tear it all away from her. Of all the cruel jokes that it had ever played on her, this had to be the cruellest by far. To give her a chance at love again in the most unexpected of places and with the most unexpected woman of all, to give her a taste of happiness and peace, a refuge from the hardships of their everyday lives and then rip it away from her _again_ …it was too much to bear.

Azshara’s assault had been too much. They had been fighting for too long and both of them were exhausted, Jaina no longer capable of calling on her magic and forced to use her staff as a melee weapon while Sylvanas had long since run out of arrows and had resorted to using her bow as a club and makeshift gouging weapon. They had gotten separated, too busy with their own individual fights to really keep track of one another.

She should have been paying attention. She should have seen the blow coming. She should have dodged, ducked, jumped, done _something_ to avoid the hit, but she _hadn’t. Been. Paying. Attention._

Jaina had, instead. She had mustered the last vestiges of mana still in her body and blinked a ridiculous distance to join her wife. But without any mana left, the only way to protect Sylvanas had been to shove her away from the blow and bear it herself. 

Sylvanas’ world immediately shrank to nothing but the sounds of a scimitar tearing through flesh and the scream of pain that followed from it.

It was as though someone had slowed down time as she turned and watched the Naga brute rip his blade from her wife’s body, taking blood, flesh and others in his wake. She saw Jaina fall in slow motion, red tainting the blue and white of her battle robes, red mixing with the red of the ground, red colouring everything in the Banshee Queen’s vision until it was the only thing left. 

She was silent as she tore him limb from limb, her rage fuelling every strike, every movement quick and efficient and designed to make him _suffer._ She had no time to waste on him, but she’d be _damned_ if she didn’t at least make him feel even a bit of the pain he had inflicted on Jaina.

It wasn’t long, twenty seconds at best, before there was nothing left of the brute, and Sylvanas didn’t spare him another glance or another thought, her entire world shifting to the mage that lay _dying_ before her. 

“Dalah’surfal, please. Please, hold on.” Her voice was desperate as she cradled her wife in her arms, her right hand drenched in red from Jaina’s wound.

Jaina’s eyes struggled to open at the sound of that voice, broken and scared and everything she never wanted to hear from her most beloved. “S-Syl-“

Sylvanas’ heart jumped into her throat at the sound of Jaina’s voice attempting to say her name. It was weak and faint, but maybe…maybe there was hope yet. She was deluding herself, of course, beautiful lies that she told herself to try and delay realizing the inevitable. A wound like the one Jaina had taken for her was fatal. Her love didn’t have long to live, but she couldn’t bring herself to think that. 

She wasn’t ready. Not yet, _not yet._

“Save your strength. You’re going to be all right. You have to be all right.” Sylvanas’ voice grew more and more desperate as blood continued flowing from her wife’s injury. She wanted to get up, wanted to take her beloved to a Priest, a Shaman, just a damned _healer that could fix this_ but her legs refused to move, her entire body was trembling, and her eyes were cloudy with tears. 

_What good are you if you can’t even save her?!_

Jaina coughed painfully, blood flying from her mouth and making Sylvanas panic even more. _Why wouldn’t her body listen?!_

“My love…” Jaina said softly, her hand raising to stroke her wife’s cheek gently, a feather-light touch that was barely-there but was comforting in its own way. “I’m so sorry. I’m so-“

“ _No._ ” Sylvanas ground out, her tears now falling down trails that had long since been burned into her skin. “Please don’t leave me. Fight, Dalah’surfal, _fight._ I can’t-“ Her voice broke then, the reality of it all settling into her chest like a boulder that crushed her. “ _I can’t do this without you._ Please don’t leave me. Not yet. You’re not supposed to go _yet._ ”

Jaina coughed again, knowing that she didn’t have much time left but forcing herself to say the one thing that mattered more than anything right now. “I love you. My-my darling, I love you…so much.”

Sylvanas cried harder at this, pressing her forehead against her wife’s and whispering those most important words back in a trembling, broken voice. “I love you too. I love you more than I ever thought I would, more than I could ever tell you, Dalah’surfal.”

With the last of her strength, Jaina weakly pulled at Sylvanas’ hood and managed to get the Banshee Queen to lean down for one final kiss. It tasted of copper and loneliness and heartbreak, but it was all they had left, the last time their lips would meet, and if she had to go…well, she couldn’t think of a better way than in her wife’s arms.

Sylvanas held on until she felt Jaina’s body slacken slowly, the hand that had clung to her hood falling limp and the lips pressed against her own becoming lifeless.

Jaina was gone, and with her the very last remnants of Sylvanas’ heart were shattered forever.

The scream of sheer _grief_ that rang across the battlefield chilled even the Naga to their very core. 

Sylvanas gently deposited her wife’s body on the ground and stood up slowly. She didn’t bother to wonder why her body was finally obeying her again or why they hadn’t been disturbed during their final farewells. Her heart was gone, and in her mind the only thing left was blind, all-consuming rage. 

“You will all suffer a thousand times more than she did.”

She jumped back into the fray.


End file.
